


Tomorrow Never Came

by KylaPhoenix



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Lack of Communication, M/M, Misunderstandings, communication is key guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-05 09:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KylaPhoenix/pseuds/KylaPhoenix
Summary: "We need to talk." Sid saysGeno is so taken aback that he almost trips over one of Jeffrey's chew-toys. "Yeah, of course. What you want to talk about?" The tremble in his hands is getting worse by the second, making him wring his hands together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CoffeeStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeStars/gifts).



> Based on an anons prompt on CoffeeStars tumblr http://nomorelonelydays.tumblr.com/post/163233736862/hi-so-i-have-a-mighty-need-for-some  
> This is me undoing the emo of that prompt. Or maybe not. Written to Lana Del Rey's new album on repeat, title is from that. English is not my first language, but I've got a B/A so it shouldn't be bad, and this is my first time writing fic.  
> Warnings in the end notes.

Geno was nervously rearranging the silverware and refolding napkins when he heard the doorbell. Straightening his shirt and wiping his hands on the pants of his best suit, he inhaled a steadying breath before taking the few necessary strides to reach his front door. His hand hovers over the door handle, nerves making his hand shake, before pushing it down. The door opened to reveal Sidney, dressed in dark jeans and a navy sport coat, with a serious expression adorning his face.  

"Hi, Sid." Geno hears himself sound out of breath, as if he just finished his third shift of a game.

Sid smiles, the serious lines melting away. "Hey, G."

Geno ushers Sid inside, offering to take his jacket.

"That won't be necessary. I'm not able to stay for long." Sid says, the severe expression returning to his face, no longer soft and smiling. "We need to talk."

Geno is so taken aback that he almost trips over one of Jeffrey's chew-toys. "Yeah, of course. What you want to talk about?" The tremble in his hands is getting worse by the second, making him wring his hands together.

Sid looks nervously around the entryway, before looking up at Geno. "Mind if we sit down?" He too is clasping his hands together, knuckles going white under the pressure. 

"No, of course," Geno says, leading the way to the living room, unclasping his hands to unfurl and stretch his numbing fingers. He can feel where his nails have bitten in to his palms, revealing crescent shapes. He gestures for Sid to sit down on the couch before joining him, angling himself towards him, but leaving enough space between them for a serious conversation. Geno feels on edge and has to strain himself not to tap his foot. "So, what is it?"

Sid breathes deeply, looking down at his hands, before staring determinedly into Geno's eyes. "We have to stop. We can't keep seeing each other."

Geno feels as though someone shot a puck right at his solar plexus, he can't breathe, he can't move, only stare at the face of the man he loves telling him it's over. He can feel his heart clench before twisting and breaking apart. His stomach feels empty, his throat raw with a lump forming there, and pressure building behind his eyes. He realizes Sidney has kept talking, but can't grasp the words, doesn't really want to. He has to, though, has to push through before he shuts down. "What?" His voice finally rasps out.

Sidney lifts his gaze from where he had focused it on the buttons of Geno's shirt, surprise fluttering over his features before settling on confusion. 

"The arrangement," Sidney pronounces slowly. "We have to end it."

"What arrangement? What are you talking about?" Sidney's confused frown deepens.

"Us. It has to end." Geno didn't know his heart could get more shattered, his lungs more constricted or his mind more confused. 

"Why?" It comes out as a whisper.

"Andrew." He answers as if it is obvious.

"Who?"

"My boyfriend." Sidney looks at Geno as if he's hit his head, talking slowly and enunciating every syllable like his grasp of English is the problem. 

Geno can't breathe. He's gasping for air, but he can't fill his lungs. He has to go, has to get out of this room, this house. Away from the person he's wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Three years, and now it's just over and Sid has already found someone else.

A hand reaches out to squeeze his knee, but he jostles it away when moving back towards the far end of his couch, not wanting its false reassuranse.   

"What you talking about?" He asks as tersely as he can while feeling tears spill over the edges of his eyes, settling by the corners of his lips and running down his chin. " _I'm_ your boyfriend." It comes out with a hitching breath, and he cringes at the pleading tone of his voice.

Now it's Sidney's turn to ask "What?" with an uncomprehending expression.   

"We be together three years, Sid. And now you say you have other boyfriend?" Geno hates letting Sid hear the hurt in his voice, the desperation. "How long you been cheating?"

"Cheating? What are you talking about? I'd  _never_  cheat." Sidney is almost shouts.

"Then how you have new boyfriend?" Geno is the one yelling now.

Sidney blanches at that. Geno can see the cogs moving in his mind before Sidney's eyes widens in realization. "Y-you mean," Sidney swallows hard, his Adam's apple moving in his throat. Geno can see tears forming in his eyes. "I'm so sorry." he whispers.

"Please don't." Geno's voice is cracking, the need to run away getting stronger by the second.

"I didn't realize. I mean, I thought." Sidney continues, and Geno can't take this any more. He stands up quickly from the sofa, ignoring the dizziness it induces, and grabs his jacket from where he slung it over his chair in the kitchen. The candles are still lit, the candle wax dripping and staining the tablecloth, leaving drops of silver. He escapes the choking confines of his house in to the evening, but the cold air doesn't sooth him. He imagines nothing ever will. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13 beaches by Lana Del Rey  
> Written on my phone, half while walking through the woods with my mom. The dialogue in this chapter is in Russian, but since I don't know the language assume they're speaking Russian with fellow Russians. There's some Russian words/nicknames I remember from other fics. Sorry for the fact that my tenses are a bit jiffy, I don't have a beta. And no, my mom is never going to read this

Sergei Gonchar is making sure his daughters are tucked in for the night when he hears the front door open and click shut. He hurries down the stairs, sure that his wife is still in her office. A familiar figure is hunched down in front of the door, hiding his head in his hands.

"Zhenya?" he asks. Making the man lift his head and reveal the tears in his eyes. "What's wrong?" The only response he gets is a hitching sob, before Zhenya returns his head to his hands.

"What happened Zhenya? Please tell me." Sergei urges

"I'm sorry for coming here like this. I didn't know where else to go." Zhenya apologizes instead of answering.

"No of course you can come here. I gave you that key for this reason." Sergei says assuringly.

"Oh really, for this exact reason?" Zhenya jokes, and although it lands a bit dully with his broken voice, Sergei is just relieved that he is able to talk back even with silent sobs still racking his body.

"Well, maybe not for this exact reason." Sergei intones with a smile, making Zhenya give a small laugh, at which Sergei feels a wave of relief. "But we don't mind that. Ksenia and I will always room for you."

Zhenya looks at him now, eyes clearing and wipes at his face with the back of his suit sleeve.

"Don't ruin your suit more," Sergei chides gently. "I've got kids, so we're sure to find some Kleenex." He reaches down to tug Zhenya to a standing position before ushering him to the kitchen and provides him with a glass of water. Next he pours something stronger.

"Apparently we were never together." Zhenya blurts out. He combs his hair back harshly between his fingers.

"What?" Unwittingly Sergei echoes the same question that has been asked continuously throughout the night, both outside and inside Zhenya's head.

Zhenya produces a box from his jacket pocket. "I was going to ask him to marry me, but in his mind we've never even had a chance." His words are so blunt that Sergei winces.

He keeps tugging on his hair and he's crouched over, folding in on himself. His eyes are puffy and red, his voice wavering. The pain is evident on his face.

"Uncle Geno?" Natalie asks, standing in her pajamas in the doorway to the kitchen.

"Hello, solnyshko." Zhenya crouches and lets her run into his arms, his expression infinitely brighter.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, poking her 'uncle' in the chest.

"I think a better question is what are you doing here." Sergei chides Natalie, making her pull an exaggerated pout.

"I'm going to stay here a little while if it's okay with your parents." Zhenya looks at Sergei, wary before the acknowledging nod that follows.

"How long?" Natalie asks with hopeful eyes.

"Well we have a few days off, so at least that long." Zhenya assures her

Natalie clings impossibly tighter around Zhenya, exclaiming a delighted cry. "Yay, Uncle Geno!"

"Thank you, Seryozha. I just couldn't-"

Sergei interrupts him with a pointed look. "You're family." Zhenya tilts his chin down gratefully. "Now, lucky for you the sheets in the guest room just got changed and you still have some clothes here. Let's get you two to bed shall we."

Zhenya smiles down at Natalie who is frowning at her father's insistence on bedtime. "I just have to make a phone call."

"Of course, I'll leave you to it" Sergei smiles assuringly before reaching for his daughter. "And you myshka, you're coming with me."

Before heading up the stairs with a giggling Natalie over his shoulder, Sergei overhears Zhenya talking on the phone. "Hello, I'm need to cancel reservation." He sounds casual for a man who just got his heart broken, but he knew as soon as he got off the phone; Zhenya would break down again. Sidney Crosby was a dead man.  
 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Knife by Kyla la Grange  
> This chapter is longer?!? I'm trying. At one point I swear I had the line «telling the tales of his woes» in here. (Upside-down face that ao3 won't allow) oh man am I hurting Geno.  
> Russian translations in end notes
> 
> I went and wrote a Check Please! fic if you wanna check it out that'd be cool. Cool co-cool cool (I blame you Bee, and b99 being awesome). No, it' would be awesome! 
> 
> I'll be posting chapter 4 as soon as possible, I'm just trying to make Sidney less like an asshole and more self-aware.

The Gonchars provide for ample distractions with their soothing Russian voices and cuisine. It provides an alternative for the urge to fly home and be with his Мама. He manages to Skype her instead, letting her do most of the talking while memories of home wash over him.

At the end of the call, she looks at him with sad eyes and simply says; "я люблю тебя, навсегда Женя."

He locks himself in his room and doesn't emerge before breakfast, but lets Jeffrey stay with him. At breakfast Victoria and Natalie gives his blinis blueberry smiley faces.

The day he returns home, the evidence of the dinner he had prepared doesn't sit on the stove as he had expected it to. The pots and pans are washed and in their respective places, and the dishwasher has produced clean utensils.

Sidney must have cleaned up. The thought makes his stomach turn. He throws out the leftovers Sidney had neatly put in Tupperware and takes Jeffrey for a run, drowning his thoughts in loud music.

Today marks the last day of the short break and optional skates. Sidney probably attended them all, unless-. No, he won't let his mind go there.

He pushes himself the last mile, leaving both him and Jeffrey panting hard by the time they get home. He peels off his clothes and lets the water leave him numb. Jeffrey keeps by his side just as he have the past few days, curling up to a comfortable weight against Geno on the couch.

Geno wakes up with a start, making Jeffrey jump and flee the bed. His shirt is sticking to his chest, and he listens to the sound of paws against hardwood floor before emptying himself out of bed.

He goes about his morning at a glacial pace. He woke up long before his alarm, and besides; he did have a reputation for being reasonably late. But today he wanted to be first in, first out. He had to.

He sends off a quick text to Flower, asking to practice his shots before practice, while he lets his tea brew. He sends Jeffrey out in the back yard, sitting himself on the porch with his tea and phone, reading over his e-mails. He ignores his texts and calls, only letting Flower's reply go through.

The drive to the arena is mechanical, and he lets putting on his gear be the automatic reflex it has grown to be. He doesn't know how long he had sat there when Flower arrives, apologizing for his lateness by telling the adventure his daughter had decided to go on this morning.

Sidney would be a great father, he let himself think, before the devastation hits him. Flower lets him cry into his shoulder.

 

  
They're just getting ready to go out on the ice when the first guys trickles in. Flower chirps Tanger in French the second he walks through the door, and the normalcy of the action settles Geno. That is, until Sidney enters the locker room. He feels himself freeze, the instinct to flee sounding off alarm bells in his head. It's fight or flight, and in this moment he aches to do the latter.

Geno desperately tugs the sleeve of Flower's jersey, letting the goalie usher him out on the ice. He doesn't see the seething glare Flower sends Sidney.

When practice officially starts Geno feels his wrist needing tape after Flower suggested they'd work on his slap shots. At one point he even had Geno stand at the opposite side of the rink, letting Geno hit the puck as hard as he possibly could. Flower didn't go easy on him, something he was eternally grateful for.

Sidney seemed unaffected, and didn't show any signs of the gut wrenching heartache Geno was feeling when the coaches paired them up for drills. After practice Sidney chided Geno for provoking a injury, just like he would with any other player. Geno let Jeffrey sleep at the foot of his bed again. Flower made sure Geno recieved Vero's baklava after he turned down their dinner invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to delete this btw. Thank you whoever invented the bin and restoring notes. No thank you Apple notes person for not making a "are you sure you want to delete this"-window. (Was that a double negative? Idk)  
> This was also written on phone, un-betae'd so mistakes are definitely mine and I should've fixed most of the last chapters'.  
> я люблю тебя, навсегда Женя - I love you, always Zhenya.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Heartbreak and possible panic attack.


End file.
